Chapter 1: Drawing the Line

After divorcing my wife, I couldn’t wait to draw a clear line between us. I married my young, beautiful girlfriend and bought the Jeep I’d wanted for so long. Those miserable days were finally over. I felt alive again.

The first time I slid behind the wheel of my new Wrangler—top down, sun pouring across the dash—I felt something loosen in my chest. It was freedom I hadn’t tasted in years. Natalie hopped in next to me, her laughter sparkling, bare feet tucked on the seat. This was it. No more second-guessing. Just blue skies, winding country roads, and a woman who made me feel like I was finally home.

On the day we got our divorce papers, I made a point of wearing the suit Natalie bought me. She wanted to come with me, but I said no. I couldn’t predict what Rachel might do. She was my wife—no, after the final stamp, she’d be my ex-wife.

I stood in front of the mirror that morning, smoothing the lapels, wondering if Rachel would even notice. The suit was a deep navy, tailored to fit—a far cry from my old hand-me-downs. In the soft apartment light, I caught my own anxious reflection, trying to look more confident than I felt.

“Then you’re not allowed to look at her even once more, or I’ll get jealous.”

Natalie tugged playfully at my tie, her flirty touch making me feel more certain that divorcing Rachel was right. Rachel never brought out this kind of spark. Even in bed, she bored me. Natalie was different—young, passionate, she understood me.

She grinned, her green eyes dancing. “Seriously, Ben. You look way too good in that suit. If you so much as smile at her, you’re sleeping on the couch.” She poked my chest and pulled me in for a quick kiss, her lips cool from her iced coffee. The scent of coconut shampoo lingered as she bounced away, humming some Top 40 hit while slipping on her sneakers.

“Okay.”

“I promise.”

I flicked Natalie’s nose, feeling invincible. I arrived early at the county clerk’s office, eager for a new beginning. Rachel showed up half an hour before our meeting time. Rachel looked like she always did—hair pulled back, no makeup, just that quiet determination in her eyes. The kind of presence that made you feel like you were already on trial. Even out of her blazer, she stuck to those drab shades of gray, white, and black.

I checked the time on my phone, hoping she wouldn’t catch my nerves. She approached, chin high, with that same practical tote bag slung over her shoulder. The early spring air was sharp, a cold wind cutting down Main Street, but Rachel didn’t even flinch.

“I’ve already gotten our number. Let’s go.”

The number slip was crumpled in my palm as I fidgeted. I was nervous and a little excited. Rachel nodded and walked ahead of me, silent as always. When the staff handed us our divorce papers, I finally exhaled, relief and something hollow mixing inside me.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the clerk’s monotone echoing through the room. I pressed my signature into the page, feeling the moment settle deep in my bones—a strange, empty victory.

“Remember to move your things out early.”

“Let’s not contact each other anymore.”

Rachel’s voice was quiet but unwavering. She didn’t look back as she slid the envelope into her bag, her wedding ring already gone. For a split second, I felt a pang I couldn’t name. But I shook it off and stepped out into the parking lot, ready to let the past go.